Masked Gunman
by ix3rodeo
Summary: The Phantom of the Opera in 1880's Texas. This is what happens when a cowgirl phan listens to the soundtrack while reading Louis L'Amour westerns. Rated T for eventual gunfights. Come on, it's a western. A main character will be shot near the end.
1. Chapter 1

Well…I guess this is what happens when you let a cowgirl phan read Louis L'Amour westerns while listening to the Phantom soundtrack. I decided to write a phic, but instead of taking place in Paris, it's in Texas in 1880. Rather than the Opera Populaire, Meg Carlotta, Christine and co. are performers in a cabaret revue…but we'll get more into that later.

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**1878**

_It was a gorgeous spring day. Just a gentle breeze, and the sun high in the Texas sky. Meg and Christine had gotten out of rehearsal early-thank goodness for yet another tantrum thrown by Carlotta. That woman sure could yell. The two had decided to take this spare time and go riding. Meg threw a stock saddle over her gelding's back and grinned at Christine. Christine, in return, gaped at her. "Meg! You're not riding astride, are you?"_

_"And why not?" Meg shrugged and bent to reach under her horse and grab the cinch. "You worry too much, Christine. And besides, what happens if the horses spook? I'd rather have a seat good enough that I could actually stop my horse." Meg cocked an eyebrow at Christine._

_"It's just not proper." Christine gently set her sidesaddle on her mare's back, but gave Meg a look. "And why should the horses spook? They're both perfectly broke, and you know it."_

_Meg grinned at Christine. "Honey, sometimes I wonder if you still think you're in New York. Anything can happen out here. There are snakes…and yes, your horse will spook at a snake. Or maybe…"_

_Christine moved to bridle her horse. As she slipped the bit into the mare's mouth, she looked at Meg. "You're so dramatic, Meg. I don't know why you keep dancing, instead of trying your hand at some of the acting parts." She grinned at her best friend. "Besides, you lived in New York practically as long as I did. You moved out here when you were what, six? Your mom brought me here when I was seven…" Christine's voice trailed off. She hated to remember the reason that she had been brought to Texas…her father's death. She shook the idea out of her head. Forcing a smile, she said, "Plus, I bet I'm a better rider than you, sidesaddle or no."_

_"Oh, yeah?" Meg grinned at Christine as she slipped her own horse's bridle on. "I'll take that bet."_

_Christine mounted her horse and grinned. "You ready to go?"_

_Meg didn't respond, only removed her skirt-under which were, Christine was embarrassed to notice, men's trousers-leapt upon her horse and tapped his sides with her heels._

_It was truly a beautiful day, and the two teenage girls enjoyed themselves as they hadn't in quite some time. It was because of their carefree state that they didn't notice the imminent danger until it was too late. They had been riding along, and Christine was laughing hysterically at Meg's imitation of Carlotta's latest tantrum. She suddenly stopped, however. "Meg, listen." she said._

_"Hmm?" Meg stopped her monologue for a moment. "What is it?"_

_"It sounds like…" Christine looked down at the ground a few feet ahead. "It's a rattlesnake," she said quietly._

_Meg sucked in a deep breath. "Okay, Christine. Don't panic…gather your reins-" She didn't get the chance to finish her instruction. Christine's horse snorted, threw a quick buck, and bolted._

_"CHRISTINE!" Meg screamed and kicked her horse in pursuit. "CIRCLE HIM!"_

_Christine had never been more scared in her life. For once, she wished that she was as bold as Meg and had used a regular stock saddle, instead of a side saddle. Then she would be able to at least have both her legs to use. Desperately, Christine tried to turn her horse, but he simply fought the bit and kept running._

_She could still hear Meg screaming when she became aware that her saddle was probably not cinched tight enough, because she found herself slipping off to one side…and her horse wasn't slowing. "Oh, my-" Christine whispered._

_The saddle continued on its slide as her horse seemingly was picking up speed. But she heard hoof beats. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a man on a black horse ride up alongside her. "Grab hold of me," he said._

_"I can't!" Christine cried. "I can't!"_

_"You have too," he said calmly, but urgently. "You're going to fall."_

_She knew he was right. He reached an arm out towards her and brought his horse closer to hers, so they were practically matched in stride. She kicked her foot from the stirrup and dislodged her other leg. The man grabbed her and set her in front of him on his horse. She clung desperately to him as he slowed his horse._

_"Thank you, thank you," she sobbed into his chest. "You just saved me." She looked up at him to better see her savior. He wore all black, including a black hat and a black mask. A mask? The only men she had ever heard of wearing a mask were outlaws. And this man certainly wasn't an outlaw…if he were, why would he have saved her?_

_"Think nothing of it, miss," he said. He did not look down at her, but rode over to where her horse had finally stopped and was meekly grazing. He whistled quietly to it, speaking softly. It raised its head and he grabbed the reins. He continued to speak gently to the horse in an almost musical voice, soothing it. "That must have been quite a scare. You're okay now," he said, now using that soft, musical tone on Christine. She could only nod and continue clinging to him._

_Meg rode up. "Christine! Christine! Is she okay? Her horse…the snake…"_

_With one look, the man silenced Meg. "Miss Giry, you should go home and tell your mother what happened, and that your friend is being cared for by Erik."_

_Meg nodded dumbly and turned, not even stopping to wonder how this masked man knew who she was. She merely rode off._

_"Sir, I…" Christine's voice trailed off. The stress and reality of the situation welled up in her, and she fainted against the man's-Erik's- chest. He held her to him and rode home._

_It was a few hours later that she awoke. She was lying on a bed in a house she did not recognize, and she began to get up. Dizziness soon, however, dictated that she lay back down. As she lay there, she pondered what had happened. She remembered she and Meg had been riding, when her horse spooked…and a man had rescued her. What had he said his name was? Erik? As she continued to think, she heard a piano somewhere in the house. It was playing a familiar tune, though she couldn't remember where she had heard it. She sang along softly._

_The music had stopped, and she didn't notice until she saw the man leaning against the doorframe. "So you're awake," he said._

_She stopped singing and looked at him. She was slightly embarrassed that he had heard her sing. "Yes, I wanted to thank you…for saving me," she said quietly._

_"It was nothing," he said with a slight smile touching his lips._

_She smiled shyly back at him. "Well, still…"_

_He walked across the room to her. "You sang beautifully," he said._

_Christine blushed at the compliment. "Thank you, sir. I sing in the cabaret-"_

_Erik snorted scornfully. "You are better than that."_

_Turning her head away from him, she blushed again. The only other person who had ever praised her singing so highly had been her father… "My mother sang opera," she said softly. "About these lessons...I don't know-"_

_"I can teach you," he said. "Singing lessons. I am a musician, as I believe you just heard. I can help you, Miss…" He looked at her, as though asking her to finish her name._

_She looked into his eyes. "Daae. Christine Daae. And…" she shyly looked at him. "Would you really teach me? I have no money to pay you with."_

_He raised his hand as if to silence her. "Do not worry about money. We will worry about that later. Now, you should rest. I am certain you are still worn out."_

_"Thank you. You are an…angel," she said, and blushed. She couldn't believe she had just told this man she hardly knew that._

_He raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "Thank you, Christine."_

**1880**

"Christine! Are you ready to go on? You're on in just a few minutes!"

Torn from her thoughts, Christine called out to Meg, "Yes, hold on!" It hadn't seemed like it had been two years since Erik saved her life and then, in a moment that had forever changed her life, offered to teach her to sing. Now, for the first time in her life, the 18 year old girl was to sing a solo for the very first time in a revue.

Christine drew a deep breath as she walked onstage. The laughter and chatter of the audience dwindled. She smiled and drew a deep breath. Looking out across the crowd, she began her song. It wasn't by any means a traditional cabaret song, but one that Erik had written. It required only a simple part played on the piano.

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye…"

Christine sang her song with all her heart, knowing that this could well be her only shot. As she finished, the audience sat in absolute silence. Then, they erupted into applause and whistles. Christine beamed and curtsied for them. "Thank you," she mouthed. Looking off to the edge of the stage, she smiled widely at Meg.

As she came offstage, Christine was mobbed by the other performers. "Thank you, thank you," she said, as she walked back to the dressing room. Meg followed her in. "Christine, you were amazing!" the blond girl exclaimed. "That was incredible!"

"Thank you," Christine said.

"Oh my goodness…look, Christine!" Meg picked up a red rose and handed it to Christine. "Whoever could that be from? Do you have an admirer?"

Meg's mother, Mrs. Giry, walked in. She had grown up back east in New York, and trained as a ballerina. She had always dreamt of starting a ballet school. When she came west with her family, however, it was clear that out here Texas wasn't the place for ballet. When her husband was killed, she was offered a job working at the cabaret revue, and accepted. In her own way, she tried to make it a more acceptable place for young women, which was the only reason she allowed her daughter and Christine to perform. Even so, she schooled her daughter and Christine in the art of ballet, with hopes that someday Meg would make it back east or even to California as a prima ballerina.

"Mother, look! Someone left Christine a rose! She has an admirer!" Meg said excitedly.

"Meg, dear, would you please let me speak with Christine about her performance?"

Meg rolled her eyes behind her mother's back and flounced out of the room, her dress swishing as she walked.

"You did very well. He is pleased with you," Mrs. Giry said.

Christine looked at Mrs. Giry with a questioning look, then realized that Mrs. Giry knew Erik. He was the only one she could figure that she would be speaking of. "Thank you, ma'am," she said.

Mrs. Giry left the room, leaving Christine there, looking at her rose.

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So there you have it, my first chapter…Believe me, there will be drama, and Christine will learn that there's more to Erik that she knows…

A/N- A lot horses will bolt at the sight of a snake. I have a friend who used to have a mustang mare that she rode on a trail ride once, and there was a snake…her horse didn't bolt, it killed the snake!


	2. Chapter 2

Christine twirled the rose in her fingers, smelled it, gently stroked the blood red petals. Had Erik seen her sing? She so hoped he had. Her teacher had grown to be more than just a teacher, he became a confidant, a mentor, a friend. More than anything, she wished to make him proud. 

A knock came at her door. "Come in," she said, assuming it was Meg. Instead, a tall, slender man with golden brown hair, tied back, blue eyes, and a US Cavalry uniform stepped in.

"Can I help you, sir?" She stood suddenly, ready to try and run for it if she needed to. She probably shouldn't have just in any random person that came knocking…Many of the cowhands around here were less than honorable men. She knew that, and yet she blindly let this man in. Even though this one stood before her in a uniform, Christine was wary. She looked at him dubiously.

"You probably don't remember me, Little Lotte…" he drawled in a soft accent. "But I'm the boy who saved your scarf, years ago. Do you remember?"

Little Lotte? There was only one person to ever call her that. A boy, when her father was still alive…she and her father had stayed at a house in the Carolinas on the coast for some time, where they had met an old Southern family, the Chagny's. The first time she met one of their sons, it was because her scarf had blown into the sea, and he had saved it for her. His name was Raoul…

"Oh my goodness…Raoul?" She gaped at him, hardly believing. It had been so many years!

He smiled widely at her. "I'm glad you remembered me. I knew I'd probably make a fool of myself, but I reckoned it would be worth it to see you again." He took one of her hands in his and kissed it. "How have you been? Is your father in Texas, too?"

"I've been good…" She looked away from Raoul. "And Father is dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," He said solemnly.

Willing herself not to cry, Christine said, "It was years ago." She smiled and changed the subject. "Well, what of you? What have you been doing?"

"I went to military school, joined the Cavalry, and came out West, obviously. I've only been here but a few weeks, I believe," he said and smiled again.

"That's impressive. Why did you come out to Texas, of all places?"

Raoul smiled and kind of shrugged. "Just felt like it, I suppose. Now I'm glad I did."

"It's very nice to see you again, Raoul," Christine said. She was so happy to see her old friend again.

"Come to dinner with me," he said abruptly. Sensing that might have been too forward, he smiled. "If you wouldn't mind," he added quickly.

Christine studied him. Erik was so strict about her training, he didn't want anything to get in the way of her music… "Oh, but I can't, Raoul. My vocal instructor is so strict, he wouldn't allow it…"

He kind of smirked at her, as though he thought she were joking. "Come now, Christine. Surely an hour won't ruin your voice. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

She smiled. "No," she said firmly as she could. "He wouldn't allow it.." Her resolve was breaking down, though. Surely, it wouldn't be too bad…dinner with an old friend. Erik wouldn't mind, right?"

Maybe Raoul sensed her weakening resolve, because he merely remarked, "You should change. I'll be back directly. Two minutes, Little Lotte."

"Raoul, wait!" she called out, but he was already long gone. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, frustrated. She wanted to go with Raoul, but she also feared Erik's reaction. Surely he would disprove. Even so, she began to change out of her stage gown and back into her normal clothes. She was just about done when she heard knocking on her door. Expecting Raoul, she called, "I'll be there in just a minute!" Erik would probably be upset.

"Christine?" It wasn't Raoul. It was Erik.

She opened her door and looked at him, somewhat fearfully. "Hello, Erik…" He wore a long black duster, black trousers, a black waist coat, and a white shirt. Around his neck was a black bolo tie, on his hands were black leather gloves and on his head was his black Stetson. As always, he wore the black mask. In all the years she had known him, she never knew why he wore it, had never seen him without it.

"Who were you expecting?" He asked. There was no anger in his voice, but even so, he studied her carefully as she prepared to answer. He was going to give her a chance

"Someone I had known as a child at the house by the see came to see me after my performance," she said. "His name is Raoul."

Erik's jaw muscle visibly twitched. "Chagny, I presume…From the Cavalry?" he said quietly, although from the way he said it, Christine didn't think it was a question she should answer. "Come with me, Christine." It wasn't a request so much as a demand, and the way he said it, Christine wasn't sure she could disobey. Must have looked as apprehensive as she felt, because Erik softened his tone and his voice took that same soothing, musical quality he had used on her, much as he would a spooked horse.

How could she refuse? He held his gloved hand to her and hesitantly, she took it. She followed him out of the saloon that the revue had been held in, where the only one still present was the bartender ,who was busy cleaning up. He didn't even glance at them. There was something different about Erik today. Christine couldn't explain it, but she definitely felt it. She was so transfixed by this man that she didn't even hear Raoul calling her.

Erik helped her onto his black stallion and mounted behind her. She knew by now that the horse's name was Cesar. She didn't ask where Erik was taking her. She trusted him. Wherever he took her, she would go.

They rode off into the moonlight, leaving a perplexed Raoul Chagny behind. He stared off behind them, and then mounted his sorrel gelding. He needed to find out more about this masked man who had taken Christine away from him.

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**So I've come to the realization that I desperately need a beta...for one thing, my keyboard has developed a mind of it's own and often omits letters or spaces...and also, as was pointed out, in my last chapter I said Christine's horse was both a mare and a gelding, and in this one I said called Raoul Erik...gracious. I mostly work on this at night and late nights a confused Dusty. help!**


	3. Chapter 3

I seem to be working rather fast on this. Writing practically a chapter a day...but that's to make up for later on this summer. I'm moving out to work on a ranch for at least a couple weeks out of every month. So hopefully I'll write enough to kinda tide yall over for those periods!

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Raoul took a drink out of his flask and sat down by the fire with the other Cavalry men. He was in something of a bad mood, and hearing the talk of the other men didn't exactly lift his spirits. They weretalking aboutsome legendarymasked gunman that had apparently been a hit man for one of the largest cattle outfits in Texas. An interesting tale, he had to admit. But he assumed that a tale was all it was. Mostly, Raoul figured just about all of what they said on a regular basis to be lore and legend, which he wouldn't really have much tolerance for on a normal day. Raoul Chagny was not a man to believe legends or much other than proven fact. Especially not tonight. "And do tell, what became of this man?" Raoul asked sarcastically.

One of the other soldiers leaned towards him, apparently not hearing the sarcasm in his voice. "Well, no one knows, exactly. Some say he got shot up somewhere around Dodge, and others say he turned around and bought a ranch, cleaned up."

Raoul cocked an eyebrow. "I see. And we're talking about him because…"

Another soldier stretched and said in a lazy drawl, "Well, we reckon we saw him tonight."

Both eyebrows were up now. "Oh, really?" It would be fascinating to hear their reasoning behind this one.

"Yessir…James o'er there says he saw him leavin' town earlier tonight."

"Ah," Raoul said, beginning to lose interest. If it was just a case of mistaken identity, which it probably was, the men were wasting their time. As always. He stood and started to walk away.

"Yeah, he was with some girl. Right pretty, too. She had this long brown hair…and big brown eyes. Say, wasn't she the one who sang tonight, Zeke? That one song at the end?"

Raoul felt like his blood was running cold in his veins. He turned around slowly to face the soldiers again as Zeke answered. "Yeah, that was her. She was something else, huh? And a heck of a singer, too," he said with an ornery grin. "Her name…what was it?"

"Christine." Raoul said quietly. "Christine Daae."

"Yeah, that's the one. Christine!" James said.

Raoulsat back down between the men. His heart was racing, faster than anything he had ever felt. Maybe he was just being a fool. Maybe…Maybe it was just some bored men running their mouths. Somehow, though, Raoul highly doubted that. He had seen her leaving with someone tonight. Drawing a deep breath in an attemtto gather his wits, he smiled amicably. "Gentlemen, I don't believe I heard all of your story about the gunman. Would you mind telling me some more about him?"

"Well…" one of the men started. He was heavily tanned from hours in the Texas sun. "No one really knows much about his past, or nothing like that. They say he came out here as just a kid, with his parents. But they were so scared of him…No one really knows why. One day, the Comanches raided their home. They say he wasn't no more than 4 or 5. Anyway, the Comanche's killed his folks and took him, with them."

"They killed his family, but not him?" Raoul asked. That sounded a bit odd…He hadn't much experience with Indians, but he didn't think they'd be so partial to just one member of a family. But then, what did he know?

The man telling the story kind of glared, as if he were annoyed with Raoul's interruption. "Yeah, not sure why they didn't kill him. Not then, anyway. I hear that the Comanches tried…tried awful hard to kill him. There was something about him that just scared them too…they gave him this name in their language…I can't remember what it was, but it meant something like 'Devil's Child'. Anyway." He paused to take out some tobacco. Continuing, he said, "He survived living out there, so then he got rescued from the Comanches and hung around for a while. Somewhere in there, he got real good with a gun, 'cause he wound up working for the Rocking W…yes,_the_ Rocking W outfit. First off they said he was there to design their corrals and the like, which he did…and a dang good job of it, too. But then…well, they found a use for his gun slingin' skills. Turned him into somethin' of a hit man…Never convicted, but everyone knew it." He paused to took a swig out of his flask. Evidently he was parched from having to retell the story.

Raoul didn't care. "And.." he prodded.

"And…after a few years, he quit. Pretty much disappeared. No one knows why. Like Luke over there said…some folks figure he got shot up around Dodge. Others say he got hisself a ranch. An' now James says he saw him tonight." The man sat back and sighed,clearly finished with his story. Raoul sat in silence for a moment, letting it sink in. His Christine, with this murderer…Heaven help her. How did she even know a man like that? Surely she had better sense…What if something happened? What could he do? He didn't know where he had taken her, if he was armed, if he had accomplices…Raoul wasn't about to go running into this blindly.

He looked again at the men and tried to feign a look of casual interest. "So…this man…did anyone know his name?"

Zeke spoke again. "I never heard a given name. Mostly, he was just known as the Phantom."

"The Phantom?" Raoul echoed. That was a new one. A lot of gunslingers had nicknames…Kid, Doc, all that kind…but "Phantom" wasn't one he had heard before.

"Yeah…they say he could sneak around an' jus' about anywhere without gettin' caught. No one knew how he did it…One minute he'd be there and the next, he was gone."

"I see," Raoul said, rising stiffly. "I'm off." He headed as if he were going to bed, but he wasn't. Not by a long shot. He wouldn't have been able to sleep, even if he had wanted to. He had too much planning to do.

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DUHHHHHHHHHdundundundunDUHHHHHHHHHH...Quite the situation we have brewing here…I don't know, I hate phics where Raoul is just a fop. I hope I'm succeeding in adding some depth to the character…Remember that he's NOT bad-yet-just worried about Christine. Maybe he won't be bad. Who knows? But don't expect that to be the last reference to Erik's past…we still need to hear it from his side!

And about the Comanche's…I sincerely hope I don't offend anyone. The Comanche's did, however, occasionally raid settlers, and I hope to make it clear that I have utmost respect for them. One of my best friends is Nez Perce and I have a bit of Cherokee in me…so believe me, I'm not trying to make them out to be crazy savages, or anything like that.

Hmm. You know, it seems that every time I add a chapter, I fall in love with it, and hate the others I've posted. Hrmph.

Mwah,

Dusty


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